


The call of the Past’s Future

by StarScreamLoki



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Loki - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Loki's POV, POV Third Person, Slightly evil loki, no additional tags really, not a fluffy fic either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 18:46:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18816835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarScreamLoki/pseuds/StarScreamLoki
Summary: Tony shows up at the Loki’s doorstep one night. Tony is shivering, bleeding, scared, obviously assaulted by someone and there is also a slightly dazed look in Tony’s eyes–as if he was drugged. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as tony is close to passing out before he mumbles, “didn’t know where else to go…” Then he collapses on Loki’s doorstep. However, Loki doesn’t know yet that the evil that is chasing the both of them is bigger than himself, and for once it isn’t Thanos who is breathing down his neck.





	The call of the Past’s Future

**Author's Note:**

> Finally! This fic was requested by @xsimpletrashx months ago and I’ve finally finished it. This one is for you darling, my amazing Tony rp-partner <3000\. Also, apologies in advance to anyone who does like the books mentioned; I just wrote this from Loki’s POV and I’m sure he has some opinions.

_ Teeth whiter than the rays of the moon split the darkness and the creature slowly emerged from the black void. _

_ Even though Loki has seen this face a hundred times before in his nightmares, he still can’t see who or what it is. Every time the creature emerges it sends shivers down his spine and, for the hundredth time, the feeling of familiarity that has nothing to do with seeing the creature never vanishes. He should know who this is, but still he can’t grasp it. _

_ The voice that belongs with the creature in front of him sends a fresh wave shivers down his spine, still he can’t hear the voice. _

_ He never can. _

_ Yet, he knows. The creature doesn’t speak and at the same time it does. _

_ He knows what that voice sounds like; smooth and velvety that harbors all the darkness in the world accompanied with a rasp like stone grating over stone. _

_ Loki knows what is going to follow. If only he could escape it. _

_ He can’t. _

_ Dark tendrils reach for him, trying to pull him under in an invisible current that fills his soul with anger, pain and grief. He is frozen in place, fear making his heart hammer in his chest. Cold fingers skim his cheeks and he doesn’t dare to look up. _

_ The creature demands it of him - to look at it. Loki wants to close his eyes, to stop his face from rising to meet that horror, but he can’t, and soon he is faced with those blood red eyes. _

_ Those eyes that demand obedience, seek revenge and are so lifeless. _

_ Scarred lips bark a mocking laugh, the echo curling around him and wringing the feeling of utter despair from his very soul. _

_ He feels the slick wetness of blood running down his spine, his arms, his legs and then his face. It leaves a searing trail in its wake which scorches his skin, burning and eating away through his flesh. _

_ The smell of blood fills his nostrils and then, as always, it turns into a smell of rot and decay. _

_ Of death. _

_ Just before his vision fills with blood Loki is plunged into darkness, a soundless scream tearing from his throat. _

With a bolt Loki sits up in his bed, sweat sticking to his skin, his throat raw and his head pounding.

* * *

The doorbell of his humble Midgardian abode rang. Loki put his Starkpad aside and hauled himself to his feet to open the door. Before he had taken one step the doorbell rang again.

The God huffed.  _ Impatient Mortals _ . He hadn't even finished his thought and it rang again.

Another step towards the door.

Another ring.

Exhausting.

After his attack on New York, the humans had claimed him as their prisoner of war. Thor had wanted to take him back to Asgard, but the Humans hadn't given an inch. Well, a small inch. Instead of being shoved into a meager prison they had given him an apartment to stay.

The first year he had been under heavy security; shackled from head to toe, special trained guards placed inside - he couldn't even go to the bathroom alone - and everything had been wired with cameras, microphones, and what not by Stark.

He could have escaped any time he wanted, could have overthrown his guards and escape his bonds, yet the God had opted not to.

After a year of ‘good behaviour’ they had toned down the security.

Loki had been given a tablet to pass time - because after a year of scheming, raging and threatening to no avail he was bored out of his mind and had requested a promised magazine.

Turned out, Stark had far more interesting devices than just a magazine and one of his minions had brought him a Starkpad instead. 

There were a lot of interesting apps, including puzzle games. Most of them were too easy or just boring. Quickly he had found an app which had allowed him to read books and he had devoured more of them than he cared to keep track of.  _ Fifty shades of grey _ had been boring,  _ The maze runner _ was interesting,  _ Harry Potter _ had been entertaining and he was quite fond of  _ The hunger games _ (although he loathed to admit it).

After a while he had requested a laptop, which Stark also had granted him, and he quickly had taught himself to hack.

Loki the master hacker - who would have thought?

More than once had he aided the Avengers in their missions with his new skill, but at the same frequency he had opposed them; it was just what he felt like doing that day and who they were up against.

Still, here he was after four years, locked up in his apartment where very little happened. The guards who had been posted outside for years had been relieved from their duties as Loki didn’t seem to do much. Apparently he wasn’t a threat anymore - a foolish attitude.

One could only ring the bell so many times before Loki would make it to the other side of his cramped apartment, yet the person on the other side of said door was hell-bend on accomplishing that challenge and managed to ring the bell with the frequency of every step the God took.

His hackles already rising and anger starting to build, Loki brusquely pulled the door open with a scowl on his face and barked, “What?”

Leaning heavily against his door frame stood a huffing and puffing Tony Stark. He was shivering and bleeding in various places. His eyes couldn't stay focused on one point, darting from left to right, almost set scared, before going hazy and staring passed Loki at nothing particular.

Someone had clearly assaulted him.

“Stark,” Loki said firmly, but obviously displeased, trying to get the man’s attention.

Stark was swaying and looked pale and ever so slowly his eyes travelled up to look at the God. When his eyes finally found Loki's he mumbled, “didn't know where else to go.”

There was a strange lul in his voice and it sounded as if his tongue was curled up in his mouth. Yet, it didn't make Loki pity the man - whatever had happened to him, he probably had it coming.

Still, Loki caught the lie in Stark's words. There was a reason other than ‘didn't know where to go’ that he had showed up here.

Before Loki could say anything Tony made a feeble attempt to shove him aside - to no avail - and glided down to the floor. “I'm just going to lie here and bleed on the carpet,” he mumbled while lying prostrate on the floor on his belly. His legs were still out in the hallway and Tony rested his head on Loki's boot. “Just going to close my eyes,” he sighed and closed his eyes. Barely audible and mumbling under his breath with the same double tongue he added, “don't let me die, Reindeer Games.”

“Pathetic.” Loki pulled his foot away and looked down at the man with disgust as Tony’s head hit the floor with a soft thud. Not only was a human soiling his carpet he had also burdened Loki with something he didn’t want. Thus far the ‘great Man of Iron’. 

It wasn’t a good sign that Tony had decided to fall asleep and Loki briefly contemplated to just leave him there.

The man wasn’t his problem.

Loki sighed.

Grabbing Tony by the collar of his neck, Loki hoisted him inside of his apartment and put him on the dining table none too kindly. Without any feeling of shame or much fanfare, Loki ripped Stark’s bloody and torn shirt away to access the damage. The man’s jeans, which weren’t in a better state than his shirt, followed next.

Most of his wounds were superficial and just bled a lot, some others were more life-threatening and Loki called forth his Seidr to heal the worst damage. He wasn’t going to waste his precious magic on those minor wounds. He held no love for Stark and the fact that he was helping him at all was something the human should be grateful for.

_ Very _ grateful.

Just as the treatment of his wounds was over, Loki felt a small tug on his magic. He furrowed his brows and sought for the source. There was something going on in that midgardian body, something below the surface, and it took him a while to track it down.

The confusion he had felt before got bigger. The human had some weird cocktail of alchemy and magic in his system! That shouldn’t be there…

After closer inspection Loki concluded that this type of poisoning was uncommon for Midgardians - it wasn’t one of their drugs - but rather something that would have been created by an Asgardian.

It was powerful too.

Loki shuddered unwillingly as he took out the poison and cast a spell to preserve the poison for later studies before storing it in his dimensional pocket.

After Loki was done he fetched some clothing for the man and put it in an ungraceful heap on the table next to him and went to the kitchen to make some tea, a scowl still on his face.

Stupid human. Why would he have come to him when there were a thousand other places he could have gone? Why him and not his ‘super hero’ friends? Or a hospital for that matter. Nothing a couple of Midgardian surgeons hadn’t been able to cure. Of course the healing process would be longer than when he used his Seidr, but that was not a viable reason.

When his tea was done Loki went back to his living room, Stark still lying unconscious on his table and his carpet marred with bloodstains.

Disgusting.

He would take care of the mess later, or even better, would have Stark clean up the mess because he made it in the first place.

Grabbing his Starkpad the God flopped down on the couch, turning the device on to continue reading his book.

It didn’t take long before the human regained consciousness and, irritatingly, he had to do so with a loud groan, undoubtedly a silent plea for attention from Loki. The God wasn’t going to give it to him, not yet, and just ignored the human who was scrambling to sit upright and dress himself while Loki continued to finish the page he was reading.

“Thank you for not letting me die,” Stark said while he walked over (now luckily dressed) to a chair with a grimace on his face and sat down. Of course, this also was accompanied with a groan and Loki had to refrain himself from rolling his eyes at the pathetic display the human made.

Just out of spite Loki ignored the man a little longer, deciding to read another page of his book.

“Are you always like this when someone just almost died in front of your feet?” Stark asked.

With an irritated sigh Loki locked the screen of his pad and put it on the table. It was shame that he wasn’t holding an actual book which he could snap shut to make his displeasure known - a non-verbal statement which he had used so often when Thor was interrupting his reading. Instead he fixed the man with a withering glare while he reached for his tea.

“Normally when people die at my feet they stay dead,” Loki retorted dryly and took a sip of his tea without breaking the stare.

Stark raised an eyebrow and Loki figured the man was quickly assessing how much of Loki’s statement had been true. Then the man shrugged, dropping the subject and jumping on to the next one. “Can I have something to drink?”

“I am quite sure you are familiar with the directions to the kitchen,” Loki answered monotone and uninterested. What did this human think? That he was his servant?

Apparently he did because Stark whined, “But I’m wounded.”

Had Loki not already been agitated with the guy, he surely was now. “Cry me a river,” he bit sarcastically and mocking.

“Oh, look at you all caught up on earthly slang.”

The look Loki gave the human was a firm warning that Stark was walking on thin ice and luckily for the human he got the warning.

“Right!” Stark said in a placiating manner and pushed himself up from his chair. “I better go. Love what you’ve done with the place, by the way.”

“Sit down!” Loki snarled. His demand didn’t broker any disobedience and thus Stark heeded the demand, slowly and wearily sinking back in his chair. Did the man really thought he was free to go after his little charade?

Stark gave him a confused look and opened his mouth to say something, but Loki beat him to it. “Firstly I demand an explanation, and secondly, you are not leaving until you scrubbed your blood from my carpet.”

The human rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll arrange for a clean-up crew.”

“It would be so much more satisfying to have you on your knees to scrub the floor,” Loki said with a crooked grin.

“Wouldn’t you love that,” Stark mumbled under his breath.

When the God’s grin grew wider Loki could visibly see the man gulp. Stark was undoubtedly ticking off a hundred possible unpleasant things Loki would have him do while on his knees - the sexual ones the least of the ‘playboy’s’ problem.

For the fact that they had kept Loki on Midgard for four years they had been quite lax in keeping the God restrained and the other knew it. Loki’s magic still at his fingertips was a dangerous thing indeed and the God was sure the man cursed himself that he hadn’t taken action to bind that particular skill.

A moment of silence followed as Stark reeled in his anxiety and Loki took the moment to calm himself from a call of evil laced with anger that demanded attention.

“You could have gone to anyone else, yet you chose me. Why?" Loki asked calmly yet with a tone that betrayed he demanded an answer.

The human shrugged. “Because you were close by and I didn’t know where else to go.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at the man. Every fiber in his body screamed that Stark was lying. When were these mortals ever going to learn that it would do them no good to lie to the  _ God of Lies _ ?

“I find that hard to believe. I am sure you would rather crawl back to your Captain, Widow, Hawk or hero compound then coming to me.” Loki glared at the man and he noticed the smallest of twitches in the man’s hand. “You are here for a reason, Stark. Spill it.”

“I was mortally wounded and you were the closest person,” Stark said.

He was still evading the truth and Loki was getting agitated again. “It was not a guarantee I would save you. I could have led you bled out,” he answered nastily. “I even considered it.”

“Thanks…” Tony said doubtful and averted his eyes from the God who was trying to incinerate him to ash with his withering glare.

Loki snorted derisively, not acknowledging the gratitude. He knew he had to chance his course of questioning a little to get the answer he wanted. If he could get the other on his heels he would surely talk, but before he could drive up the pressure he needed a little extra information - mostly irrelative, but it could make the difference.

That, and he needed to control his temper which wasn’t easy with someone as Stark as conversing partner.

Again he suppressed his agitation, speaking more calmly then he actually felt. “You got attacked,” Loki concluded and didn’t need the affirming nod from the other. It hadn’t been a question. “How exactly?”

“I was on my way home from a party. Someone ambushed me,” came the small reply.

The man wasn’t lying about that, but he was still withholding information.

“What happened to your guard dog?" Loki asked referring to Happy.

“Got sick, no replacements available,” Tony shrugged.

“Your  _ formidable  _ armour?”

“My attacker busted right through it.”

Loki scoffed at that and mockingly bit, “Thus far the great man of Iron.”

Stark gave him a withering glare, but held his tongue, looking rather nervous. That was a good thing; it meant that Loki was getting where he wanted to go. Time to put the pressure on the conversation. As long as he kept the questions quick and emotionless the man would snap.

“No saving Captain?”

“I was alone.”

“Your A.I.?”

“Not without my armour.”

Well, that was some insightful and usable information. He hadn’t thought the other would answer that question honestly because it was information that in the wrong hands could mean his demise.

However, Loki wondered what he had done that he no longer was ‘the wrong hands’. Though it wasn’t a matter he should discuss right now.

“The kid?” he asked with a knowing grin.

As he had expected mentioning Peter was enough to push Stark closer toward his limits. He wasn’t there yet, but he was getting close.

“Stop it!” Tony bit frustrated. “Stop the integration, Reindeer Games!”

“No,” Loki answered coolly,  _ threatening _ . “You are here for a reason and your excuses as to why you couldn't defend yourself are feeble at best. Why-”

“BECAUSE IT WAS YOU!” Tony shouted, jumping up from his chair.

The slight pang of glee Loki felt at achieving his goal was fleeting as the words sank in, making him halt.

“Because it was you.  _ You _ , Loki!” Tony balled his fists at his side before he slumped back in the chair, exhaustion washing over his features. Then, with a small voice he said, “And yet, it wasn't.”

Loki was sure he was gaping quite stupidly at the man before his brows furrowed in confusion. Stark hadn’t lied, and Loki had his answers, and yet it left a sour taste on the back of his tongue and made him angry.

“What do you mean ‘it was me’?” Loki said through gritted teeth.

Tony made a swirling motion with his hand. “You know, it was you and yet it wasn’t.” Then the man rubbed his face. “Damn, I could really use a drink.”

With a growl Loki got up from his couch, walked over to one of the cabinets, pulled a bottle of liquor from the shelves and put it on the table with a clang right in front of Stark’s nose. “Now explain!” Loki demanded, his patience worn thin.

The human reached for the bottle, took of the cap and wrinkled his nose as he sniffed the contents.

“One word about that liquor, Stark, and I promise you that you are leaving this apartment in a more sorry state than you entered it.” Loki had definitely reached the limit of human interaction he could handle,  _ especially _ with what the mortal had just said.

Quickly Tony took a swig from the bottle, wrinkling his nose, but mercifully keeping his opinion to himself. Then he finally elaborated. “Like I said, it was you and it wasn’t. He-  _ my attacker _ , he could have been your twin-brother but… older and uglier?”

Loki scowled, but Stark didn’t seem fazed by that and just continued. “The most obvious things about him were the scars all over his face. Scarred lips and the mess of scars on his forehead. Made him look like Freddy Krueger. And his eyes…. red instead of green.”

Loki felt the blood drain from his face.

“You know him!” Tony accused.

Loki was silent for a moment before he spoke eerily calm, “No, I do not.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed and he sat forward in his chair. “Liar,” he spat.

The laugh that bubbled from Loki’s chest was uncontrolled.  _ Liar. _ Wasn’t that the entire gist of it? Wasn’t that his title and one of his purposes of existence? Amusing how the mortal thought he could shove that card down his throat.

“It is time for you to leave, Stark,” Loki said darkly. “Before you overstay your welcome-”  _ If it ever had been there in the first place _ “-and your way out after that is not through the door.”

The man huffed, probably all too well remembering how Loki had thrown him ungraciously out of the window four years ago, and folded his arms in front of his chest. “Not until you explain.”

Stubborn mortal! Who did he think he was? Did the man truly think he could make demands of a God? Maybe he needed a small reminder.

With a flick of his wrist Loki summoned his Seidr and the human’s face twitched in discomfort - in  _ pain _ . “Do not forget who healed your wounds,  _ human _ ,” Loki growled, intensifying the pain the other felt. “My Seidr has mended your wounds, but I can as easily bring back their pain.”

Stark doubled over in his chair, clutching his side and let out a brief shout. “Okay, okay, you win!”

Loki stopped his torture and the mortal straightened himself with a sigh. “Fine!” Stark spat. “I’ll leave. But don’t think we’re done with this topic.”

“We are very done.” Loki put his hand in the air again as a manner of threat, and quickly the human jumped to his feet.

“Yeah. For now. You can expect my call soon, Hades,” and with those words Stark left, slamming the door a little harder than necessary.

Loki sank back into the cushions of the couch, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

This was problematic…

* * *

Two days had passed since he had put the human back on his feet and as expected, the surveillance around his residence had been tripled. They hadn’t breached his front door yet, but Loki was sure Stark wouldn’t just pick up a phone and call him.

No, if the man wanted answers he would probably bring those pathetic Avengers and a handful of S.H.I.E.L.D.-agents to pry the answers from his lips. He would be sorely disappointed because Loki didn’t have the answers. All he had were nightmares and a constant knot in his stomach. Apart from the poison he had extracted…

Loki had been frequently milling over Stark’s words.

The description he had been given of the attacker was sound enough, and as Loki had examined the poison he had drawn from his body he could only conclude that the other had been speaking the truth.

The poison bore all the signs of Aesir making, but also the tinge of his signature Seidr - an unique fingerprint as it was both Jotun and Aesir.

Still it left him with the question why his - apparently - lookalike was doing this. Was it even him or a lookalike, or was it a different creature that could take on other forms just as he could?

Luckily - or maybe unfortunately - Loki didn’t have to wait too long for answers.

That evening he was sitting on his couch, fairly disinterested skimming through a book on his Starkpad called  _ Twilight _ , when a green glimmer formed on the chair opposite of him.

Immediately he was on alert, the Starkpad clattering from his hands which went up to have his Seidr ready at his fingertips.

When the person had fully solidified that sense of wariness didn’t dim in the slightest.

He was looking at the spitting image of himself save for the scarred skin and lips and red eyes. 

Just like he had dreamed and Stark had described him.

“Good evening Loki,” his mirror purred. “I sincerely hope I am not interjecting something too important you are reading.”

That voice was exactly as he remembered it; smooth and velvety that harbored all the darkness in the world accompanied with a rasp like stone grating over stone. Unbiddenly it send chills over his spine and his tongue felt as if it was stuck to his palate.

“Who are you?” Were the first words that tumbled from his suddenly paper-dry mouth.

The creature laughed; a mocking sound that curled around him and struck fear in his heart.

“Why, I am you, Loki,” his mirror declared. “Only older and, how shall we put this, what you shall become if you keep this course.”

“Old Loki,” Loki whispered, drawing a confirming hum from the other.

“Be at ease, Loki. I am not here to hurt you.”

Loki realised that his shoulders were about to meet his ears, the tension in his body aching him. He let out a silent breath, willing himself to relax, but not giving up his wariness. He still wasn’t sure why Old Loki was here and what he wanted from him. 

“Then why are you here?” His voice sounded small even to his own ears, a wave of shame washing over him. He shouldn’t be afraid of Old Loki, they were one and the same after all, but that feeling of his knotted gut didn’t untie.

The wolfish smile Old Loki gave him sent a fresh wave of goosebumps over his skin and Loki briefly wondered if he looked like that as well whenever he did that. Minus the scarred lips, that was.

“I am here because I have need of you. You are my past, and therefore you are my future. I am what you shall become.” Old Loki made a vague gesture, indicating himself. Yet it wasn’t lost on Loki the brief pain that laid within those words - the unspoken truth between the lines.

He needed to know what that truth was, but for that he needed a little more resemblance of control over his own fear, even if it was only to show the other that he was not some cowed creature. “And what is that?” Loki flicked casually.

Old Loki’s face contorted in anger and he almost literally spat the words. “Abandoned, alone, silenced-” Old Loki motioned towards his mouth, “-bitter and kingdomless.”

“As far as I can tell I already am three out of those five,” Loki huffed, not willing to give up his bravado. Yet, the truth stung. This time, however, he truly relaxed and was almost certain that the other bore him no ill will. Maybe this was one of the very few persons who understood him.

The first one…

Probably the only one as well.

“Exactly. But it is not too late, Loki. With my help you can prevent two of those and even reverse the others.”

The dark promise evoked a tingle underneath his skin; a secret desire he had never dared to speak out loud, let alone admit to himself. If he just kept lying to everything and everyone, including himself, the truth wouldn’t be so ugly.

The truth wouldn’t be there at all…

Loki sank back into the cushions of his couch, putting on a display of boredom and not showing that his heart was fluttering wildly with the prospect of turning the tables, but also the deep fear that it instilled in him. “Then pray tell me, what is your big master plan?”

“We shall take over this realm!” Old Loki proclaimed proudly, sweeping his arms wide in a grand gesture. “Together we shall build an army of creatures who are loyal to us and we shall fight to reclaim what is rightfully ours! It is time that you- no,  _ we _ rule this realm as it was meant to be.” Then Old Loki gave him an evil smile and this time Loki found that his fear had died. If anything, he shared the mirth.

“And it will only be a matter of time before the rest of the universe follows. They will lie at our feet and eat out of our hands. No realm shall go-”

“I hate to interrupt your grand speech,” Loki said dryly, a thought tugging at him, “But do I need to remind you of the Avengers? Last time they intervened with my plans quite thoroughly.”

Old Loki grimaced and Loki copied that facial expression. Yes, it had not been pretty, but it had served his purposes. At least Earth had - and since he resided here as well Loki too - a defence against the Mad Titan, and they had Loki to thank for it even though they didn’t know it yet.

Something flashed in those red eyes of Old Loki. “They were the problem to begin with. They are the ones that need to be neutralized first. With our combined knowledge we can. I shall not stop until each and every one of those pesky Avengers is either immobilized or dead. And anyone who tries to intervene will be met with the same fate.”

Loki nodded. Then he decided he still wanted to ask that one question. That one looming shadow that had been following him and had molded him from the moment he had been spat out by the void. “What about-”

Old Loki waved his question away. “ _ He _ is preoccupied elsewhere, chasing ghosts which he shall never catch. You are free of his threat, Loki.”

The revelation shocked him, briefly snatching the air from his lungs, but it left another very important question. “How?”

“Are you sure you wish to know that?” Old Loki asked ominous, leaning forward in the chair, a dark shadow falling over his marred face.

Loki licked his lips and contemplated the words before shaking his head. Maybe it was better not to know and leave the past in the past even though, ironically enough, that past’s future was here right now.

“It is time you get up and do something again instead of rotting away in this dreadful place,” Old Loki declared, holding out his hand for Loki to take. “Are you with me, Loki? Or are you going to oppose me?”

Loki considered the offer and then smiled at the older God. “When do we start?”

 

**The end**

**Author's Note:**

> I thrive on comments <3  
> [Follow me on Tumblr](https://starscreamloki.tumblr.com/)


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